


The One Where Vincent Gets Shoddy Therapy

by dayblake



Category: Therapy with Dr. Albert Krueger (Video Game), 文森: G4人偶事件 | Vincent: Phantom of the G4 (Video Game)
Genre: And of course spoilers for TWDAK - it's an entire rewrite for the very last route more or less, Canon Rewrite, Contains spoilers for Vincent's backstory, It's also mostly built on personal headcanons, It's my take on if Vincent went through the final/good ending of TWDAK, M/M, So take that as you will, Sort Of, also very minor implied spoilers for chapter 3 of VTSOM, but make it a little gay towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayblake/pseuds/dayblake
Summary: Vincent crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair he sat in. That's right - dream therapy? From the man he studied marine biology next to? Yeah right. He'd be more inclined to believe Victor had more qualifications to be a therapist than Albert did."... This sounds like such a scam, Albert - how did you manage this one?"
Relationships: Vincent Edgeworth/Albert Krueger
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	The One Where Vincent Gets Shoddy Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This took me actually a number of days and was a gift for my partner, but I've also literally never put this much effort into anything I've ever written before. I hope you enjoy!

The feeling of a lucid dream was not something Vincent expected to be able to have since the accident. He figured being mostly machine by now would have a detrimental side effect to his sleeping habits, yet it seemed that his remaining organic parts still allowed for an actual dream to take place… somehow. At least something vaguely shaped in the landscape of his dreams leading him to a formal door.

Which led him to an open office space with an empty seat behind the desk. Though… not that he  _ knew _ it was still only a dream - the office was so firm and real in its state he could have sworn the door was a buildup to him awaking in a new, strange location rather than continuing his dream. It wouldn't be the first time something so dangerous had happened, but it was the first time he didn't feel immediately threatened by the circumstances.

Instead of feeling panic bleed into his situation, he couldn't help but groan at the use of the aqua walls and bright pink lighting cast from above an oddly barren desk and scattered, unlabelled books sitting on the shelf to the side. Who designs an office like this? It would be the question of the hour, but unfortunately that goes to  _ who the hell put me here of all places? _ He would have expected Myers again, hell even a house of one of the core members of the company would have been less questionable.

There was a jolt of a noise that brought him out of his thoughts and quite suddenly a very familiar man was seated behind the desk, dark fingertips pressed together in front of an oddly pale (almost bluish in the surreal lighting) face. Magenta eyes peered at him with almost mocking amusement.

_ Oh goddammit. _

"Hello and welcome to Krueger Health Corporations. I am Dr. Albert Gerald Krueger and I will be in charge of your dream therapy today… though I suppose you knew some of that, didn't you Vincent?"

"Why am I really here, Krueger?"

"Ohoho! You sound so displeased to see me again - how sad! Here I thought you would want to reconnect after all these years."

"I'm not sure what gave it away - was it the displeasure on my face?"

"Such a sour attitude. You never change, do you? Anyways - I have brought you here for your very own session of  _ dream therapy _ , as I already told you."

Vincent crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair he sat in. That's right - dream therapy? From the man he studied marine biology next to? Yeah right. He'd be more inclined to believe  _ Victor _ had more qualifications to be a therapist than Albert did.

"... This sounds like such a scam, Albert - how did you manage this one?"

"I simply inherited a place of business. Everything is legitimate!"

A roll of Vincent's eyes made it clear that felt like a bullshit response. He was sure, last he checked, a family business was never a solid reason to go into a field you were completely unqualified for. If this was the truth, he wondered why he hadn't put more focus into a proper education about this type of business that still may or may not sound exactly like a huge scam to Vincent.

"Now," Albert began before there could be anything else added. He smiled with half-lidded eyes that made him look somehow even more smug than usual, "I will start with asking for your basic information. Name?"

"Albert, you know this-"

" _ Name _ please."

He almost didn't play along. He wanted so badly to smirk at the man before him, get up, and walk out. Unfortunately for some reason he felt almost anchored to his current seat. It should be worrying, but there were literally no bindings to keep him from going places, he only assumed it was his inner craving to see how this inevitable trainwreck would end getting louder and louder.

"... Vincent Edgeworth."

"Age?"

"Thirty."

"Preferred pronouns?"

Vincent was almost taken aback by the inclusion of an actually professional question. There may be hope on the horizon yet for this scam.

"He/him, but… I suppose they/them also would work now that you actually ask it."

"Wonderful! Thank you, Vincent. Now let's begin with your therapy session."

Vincent gave a vaguely skeptical (but mostly unamused) glare from across the desk as the other man slid out a somewhat small deck of almost entirely plain cards. Each one had a random number on it, varying from single digits to a few rare double digits. A therapy game to start the session? He must be aimed towards younger clients to keep their attention on him in a more playful manner… though the man had always been like that even through college.

"And the beginning of this session I apparently cannot leave would be?"

Albert's face lit up. Gesturing to the four cards he laid out, he cleared his throat slightly.

"Just a little math to warm up the brain function, hm? I will give you a problem and you will choose whichever card has the correct answer!"

Vincent could accept the rather simple math game if only for the fact he managed to not sound extremely condescending when explaining said rather simple math game. He only nodded his htead to show he understood what was expected from his end before leaning forward slightly to observe better. One glance up to Albert's face left him oddly meeting pink eyes already on him. They were bright, amused, and interested in every little move Vincent was going to make, it seemed. Actually… was he watching him the  _ whole _ time? Creepy.

The game began with a simple ask of 2 + 2. The question was so insultingly easy, Vincent stared Albert in his unnaturally bright eyes and showed off the card with the wrong number written on its face. It happened again with 4 + 6… and 8 + 1……. and 3 + 5. Every question was so ridiculously simple that Vincent felt insulted enough to answer incorrectly on purpose. He could at least get momentary satisfaction in the sight of Albert holding back a complaint about his methods.  _ Perfect _ .

"Ah better luck next time!" Albert said it with almost forced enthusiasm as if there would be a next time. The implication made Vincent want to rip the chair in two. "Shall we take a break? I can turn up the music."

Without needing Vincent's answer, Albert smiled a little wider his way and the music gently playing throughout the room got a little bit louder. Hands free control? Something fishy happened there and it was most certainly not just the degree for marine biology hung proudly on the wall (as if it made any difference on his career as a therapist - people are not fish).

"Just what the hell-"

"So how have you been, Vincent? It's certainly been awhile! I was even surprised you decided to come in today." Albert told him, talking over the beginning of his statement, as if to imply that coming to this mysterious dream therapy session was  _ his choice _ .

"Excuse me? I didn't decide to come here. In fact, I'd actually enjoy an explanation of how I got here anyways." Vincent crossed his arms again, tapping a finger against his arm to show irritation further than an unamused raised brow. "I could potentially sue you for this."

"So you're a lawyer now? Very interesting! I have no idea why I never expected that from you - it's very fitting." Albert clapped his hands together and laughed, clearly avoiding the question yet again.

"A nuisance as ever, I see. Not that it hasn't been clear the whole time," Vincent sighed. How was this man so unbothered with avoiding questions so well? "But if you must know, yes I have been a lawyer. The top lawyer for the Myers Corporation, actually."

He purposefully left out the part where he quit after the car accident that ruined the rest of his life and was suddenly very aware of anything ticking beneath his skin.

"Myers Corporation? Well that's  _ definitely _ interesting! You'll need to tell me more sometime. Shall we get back to your session?"

As if on cue, the music playing throughout the office lowered in volume. There was his answer apparently.

"And just what exactly comes next in this session?"

"Are you familiar with the shell game, Vincent?"

"Of course I am. Is this therapy session going to be  _ all _ fun and games?"

"Until someone loses an eye!" Albert laughed as if what he had just said was lighthearted and fun.

He then reached into the drawers of the desk Vincent had no view of to shuffle around a little. During the moment of minimal engagement, he looked around the office once more. Was that painting always the letter K between stick figure shaped people-?

"Here we are!" Albert snapped his attention back, leaning back up with the drawer sounding off when it shut. He placed three plastic cups down on the desk in a manner that would be used for the game that was coming - upside down and empty. "Here we have three cups! In the center we will place-"

There was a careful scan of surroundings in a search of a missing piece.

"It seems we are missing a ball to go under these cups. Please excuse me for a moment, Vincent."

In an instant, Albert was missing from the desk in an oddly tolerable screech-like noise. It gave Vincent more than a split second of a break to mentally catch up with the moment. Just what the hell was going on here? Since when did Albert even possess the ability to do that? That's been the second time now  _ and _ his arms… it looks like things have only gotten worse in that aspect. It made a frown come across his face in a less displeased manner than he had been showing.

His thoughts of pity were interrupted by a scream from outside the room. There was a motion to look for a door, finding a mysterious lack of them at the very moment alone. Not even a window to glance out of.

"Ah thank you for your patience, Vincent."

Vincent turned back to find Albert back in his place behind the desk with hands, dark like fresh bruises, folded and cups neatly back in order before him. Vincent was a man who was hard to scare since the accident, but he couldn't help the inkling of worry in not knowing what his old college friend had become now that the evidence was all there.

"Shall we proceed?"

Maybe he could figure it out. Maybe this could be a chance to have a less persistently annoying Albert in his life if he could just figure out what has been making him so-

_ That would be an eyeball sitting before him. _

Albert lifted the center cup to display it beneath, presenting it as the ball they would be playing with. Vincent was no stranger to the more odd ways of using an eyeball, but this made him confused only for the fact that in his recent hindsight… it really felt unlike Albert to do something like this. It was quickly brushed off, however, given his own recent admissions - murder, consumption of blood, things of that nature. Maybe they ended up similar enough yet again.

The more he put into that thought, the less irritated he was with being here and more worried about the man before him.

Not enough to get the shell game right, however.

His eyes were fine-tuned and sharp with keeping up with his motions no matter how fast they got and he tired of the game already after a couple rounds. There was something about his focus being on the cups that made it easier. From his peripherals he could see there was something  _ wrong _ at one point with Albert. As if his focus on his “patient” was so strong there were eyes all over him. Vincent didn’t look. Instead he focused on the game and purposefully answered wrong each time, but maybe part of him felt like his improved eyesight was cheating and that was why…  _ no it was definitely getting fed up with the session being full of games rather than communication _ .

“I suppose luck did not favor you tonight, hm?” Albert spoke as he dismissed the cups and eyeball before him. Vincent blinked and there was suddenly a desk with a lamp and telephone on it now instead of the cups. Were those there before? “Oh well, let’s take another break, shall w-?”   
  
The phone rang in the middle of the mysterious music increasing in volume, an expressive face molded into the place a dial should go expressing with the sound of it ringing. Albert held up one finger as if to silently say  _ excuse me, I’m on the phone _ as he picked it up and greeted the other end. It sounded like nonsense, but Albert waited with a patient smile for whoever was there to finish speaking.

“No, William, do not put her arm into the oven. I would rather not have things come to that- yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you. Please take care of that peacefully.”

Okay something was definitely wrong with this company Albert inherited.

“My apologies for the hold, Vincent!” Albert said, hanging up the phone and folding his hands once again as if he did not just have to tell someone else to not put a person’s arm into an oven. “I meant for this to be a nice break between my ideas to catch up.”   
  


“Is everything alright on the other line? Usually you don’t need to tell other people not to do something so…” There was a loss for proper words, unable to place one for the action advised against.

“Oh! Yes it’s quite alright. Thank you for the concern.”

“...”

“...”

The silence was almost brief, but definitely somewhat awkward. Vincent tried thinking of something to bring up to delay the next mind-numbingly easy games. The challenge really came from trying to mess them up. Maybe he could get some more information while he was here.

“This company. You said it was your family’s business?”

“Indeed. I actually inherited it from my father! I’m now the CEO.” The words were said with such pride, Vincent could swear he saw the other’s chest puff out just a little. “We  _ are _ the pride of the G2 District, after all.”

Vincent wasn’t even sure what this company offered to the district, but he barely had the patience for a lecture about  _ that _ tonight.

“Well congratulations on that. Something nice to come back to when you left G4, I presume?”

“Ah! Yes, well, something… like that, yes.” There was a sudden change in Albert’s demeanor thinking about that. It must be a touchy subject. Maybe his passion for fish - the degree he achieved at RMU - was what he planned to pursue before having to come take over this business. It would make much more sense… “Let’s move on, shall we? I have a very special activity next.”

The music died down, but by now it didn’t really faze Vincent. He was on edge, preparing for more reality-bent items being blinked into the office before him as other things very easily had been. Nothing happened, however. There was a shared glance between him and Albert and as the other opened his mouth to speak, Vincent noticed the fangs clearer than before. Fangs, purple-black arms, bright pink eyes… it was all so different from that Albert he knew in college. From the dark coloration at the tips of his fingers he always claimed were marker stains from working hard the arms must have spread to this…

“Now comes one of my very favorite parts of a session. It’s something I like to call the gateway to the heart!”

“The gateway… to the heart.”

“Yes! I will need you to close your eyes for me and answer simple questions about yourself as a sort of… evaluation.”

“And if I refuse to give you information?”

“I would rather you did.”

“If I trust you enough to give you details you don’t have, why don’t you give me the same? Not as ‘patient and therapist’ but as… old college friends.”

The interest was spiked almost immediately. The smirk on Albert’s face was less smug and almost wistful at the sound of that kind of bonding. It seemed like it could be a chance to truly start to reconnect, so why not put it out there?

“The idea is rather appealing… I’ve wondered what else became of you once I left and I’m sure by this offer you mean to tell me the same thoughts came over you.”

They, in fact, did not until now.

“Of course. Isn’t that what everyone wonders? Where the top of their class ends up after graduation?”

Albert hummed in agreement before blinking very slowly and only opening them to a half-lidded and interested look. His eyes were bright and piercing and… oddly beautiful. Drawing and nearly hypnotic in how they caught the light of the room. The thought didn’t even register as odd at first with how much he’d been focused on the man since his mysterious arrival, but Vincent was somewhat entranced in that moment by the beauty of, well,  _ Albert Krueger _ and that was new. Maybe… maybe not unwelcomed. The jury seems to be out on that yet.

“Close your eyes for me, Vincent.”

Even his voice was something pleasing to his ears. What was even happening to make Vincent realize so much? All he did was take a deep breath and close his eyes instead.

“Great! First question: How difficult do you find it to make friends you can keep?”

What a…  _ strong _ way to start the session.

“Well…” Vincent wasn’t really sure what to say. It was easier to make friends - to make allies - back before his accident (if you could even call it that still). His trust had been cracked and crumbled after that and making friends came to be known as a very rare occasion. “I wouldn’t say keeping them comes naturally, but I’ve become more busy to keep more company than what Victor gives me.

“Now what about your answer to my question? What was the real reason you left G4 after college?”

There was a pause… and then a soft sigh.

“It is the truth that it was family. It was always my father’s wishes… no matter what I wished for my future, it has always been my destiny to come into the power of this company.”

There was a tap of something - like a pen to a table in an attempt to distract - and Vincent’s mind wandered to trying to picture what Albert was doing at the moment, trying to picture if it  _ was _ a pen tapping the desk or maybe some other desk activity entirely. Perhaps cracking his eyes open between questions was allowed… is what he thought before meeting the piercing pink stare of Albert who simply put on a forced smile with his chin resting on fingers folded to fit.

“Why did you open your eyes, Vincent?”

The chill in his voice gave such a strong urge for Vincent’s eyes to shut, he slowly returned his lids to rest closed.  _ Intimidating… also a new trait for Albert to have, but not unwelcome either. _

“Very good. Thank you. Next question - how connected do you feel to the people around you?”

Only the second question in and Vincent felt like he was actually being targeted with questions like these. How could he know to ask him questions that he’s asked himself, more or less, every night? How connected  _ did _ he feel to those around him? He was fond of Victor. Maybe not as much as the man seemed fond of him (it’s hard to match a level of flirtation so high)... but he was also fond of Draco. Draco felt like… a son, really. He took care of him and treated him like family. Moving onto the next thought brought up a blank. Was there really no one else in his life to feel connected to? Maybe he was hiding from Myers still, but could he really not trust people enough to give him support? The thought made him frown.

“I have a very special bond to those I’m close with. They’re all I find I need in my life these days.”

A sound of acknowledgement gave Vincent a hint he could continue.

“And what about you? I don’t know much about your social life. Are you connected to the people around you?”

He could tell he might have hit a nerve from the odd silence given for a moment. Knowing Albert to never shut up, it must have been something hitting a little too close to home in the same way it did for himself. Before the silence was broken, a strange mewling sound drifted through the room. Huh-

"I'm close to all of my patients, Vincent! I have a special connection with each of them. They mean a great deal to me."

“Your patients?” Vincent spoke before he could stop himself, curious of the answer and expecting the worst. “Is there no one else you reach out to for company? That you feel cares about you?”

“…”

“Albert, do you really not feel like you can talk to-”

“I think we should move on.”

Vincent opened his eyes again, ready to argue this more. If he felt small by the question, and if Albert felt the same, he should clearly extend the olive branch they never had in college to see if he could remedy that even a little bit. His eyes met harsh pink again, expression set to that smooth and unreadable smirk.

“Again? Why did you open your eyes, Vincent?”

“…“

Eyes shut again, he mulled over how heavy Albert’s voice was that time. Just as intimidating and nearly icy, but it was almost tinged in hurt. Hm. He’d have to do something about that, whatever that something might entail… he wasn’t sure what could actually help with that at the moment without sounding out of place.

“Next question then… if you could wave a magic wand, what positive change would you make in your life?”

Waving a wand and changing something in his life for the better… that sounded nice. Did it have to really just be one thing? Could he change his body back to being human? Could he give Victor his eyes or arms back? Could he erase Myers from the face of G4 for good? So many choices, such a laundry list of  _ wants _ that never left, that he couldn’t help but  _ want _ . It nearly heaved a sigh from him, but he stopped and clasped his hands in his lap, fingers folded together.

“Perhaps I would simply wave the wand to ask for things to be easier in my life. It has not been a kind few years and if it was possible to wish a lighter time… I definitely would.”

“I see… I see. Very interesting, Vincent.”

“And you? Is there a specific change you would make in your life?” The words left Vincent’s mouth and upon waiting for the answer he realized that he wished now to be the answer to the question - seeing old friends again, something of that nature.

“I suppose the world could use less mediocre people.” Albert chuckled, obviously joking in his tone, “Ahh I’m only joking. I love my life and everything in it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The last answer he got seemed like it could conflict with these words, making Vincent wary. He wouldn’t change a thing? Not even the fact that he seemed to have no friends ever since college? Odd… almost as odd as the faint notes of a guitar being tuned drifting through the room like an echo. Now where in the hell-

Vincent regretted opening his eyes almost immediately.

A horrifyingly mangled face on a burnt twig of a body scuttled off from being inches away from his face upon opening his eyes. He did not like that. He did not like that one bit and his defensive inner systems kicked in momentarily in response to such a sudden sight. To anyone staring at him, it might have been clear his eyes flickered to black sclera, a signature of others of similar build to him that there is some offensive measure to be taken. Once he reassured himself that whatever that  _ thing _ was had really gone, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath to realign his gaze with his normal eyes on display once again on Albert.

Albert who had been watching him the entire time.

“Albert-”

“What happened to you, Vincent?” His tone was soft. Much softer than expected, actually. “I don’t think you’re quite the same man I met in college, are you?”

“No.” Vincent swallowed. He would have, at least. His fingers fidgeted in his lap. He felt the weight of his metal endoskeleton sitting there. “I suppose you wouldn’t have known… about the accident.”

“There was an accident?”

“Not so much an accident as it was sabotage. Attempted manslaughter. My own boss-” He heard something move on Albert’s desk. One little glance revealed a tear in the paper he had been jotting notes on. “My own boss that I had just one a very large and very dangerous case for made my car- and on the day of the part Victor had planned-  _ and made me this _ thing… a cyborg. I’m no longer human, no. I’m no longer the man from RMU you so desperately stoked a rivalry with.”

Vincent couldn’t think straight when it came to his distaste for Myers and all those who Myers held close. He was the reason he died and was recreated as this slaughter machine. A man who was no longer a man, killing in revenge of not only himself, but for other members of the company who unwittingly were hired to meet the same fate - but more unfortunate arguably. His fists clenched together even tighter at the same time his jaw momentarily locked. He would pay. He would  _ pay _ for what he did and no longer run like the sinister coward he was.

“Vincent…”

Albert’s voice snapped his attention back, slightly relaxed that time. His face was unreadable, but more pale in his face. His eyes looked more red than pink in a stage like that - wider too. It was an off-putting sight to see him so… angry. He looked simultaneously serene, yet ready to pop with rage. Perhaps he did have another ally in this after all.

“You should close your eyes again, Vincent.”

He listened, feeling a little too unsettled by the face he had stared at.

“I only have one more question for you anyways,” Albert said with a dramatic pause as if it helped distinguish that phrase from the question he would ask, “Have you ever had the urge… to murder someone in your life?”

Vincent froze.

“Or maybe dismember them-”

He felt his throat tighten.

“Chop them into pieces… and make them into a hamburger?”

Why did Albert know exactly what to ask to get under his skin? Why did it seem like Albert knew exactly what crimes he had committed in the name of payback? He had killed, yes. He had  _ dismembered _ , yes. He… well, he hadn’t done the last thing. Two out of three is enough of a coincidence to feel uneasy. An aura of fear crept up Vincent’s neck.

“No. I don’t think the idea of using human meat for consumption…” Before he could procure a response to that, he added a note of “And you, Albert?”

Of course the first noise he would get in return was a laugh. His voice was slightly off, but not as noticeable as he should have thought.

“I personally have a distaste for hamburgers, so no.”

As simple as that.

And as simple as that, Vincent felt the fear peak in the room. The urge to open his eyes and check for his own safety was strong and he gave in. His eyes stared at Albert holding his face, colors dripping out of his eyes, nose, mouth as he grinned with eyes wide open. It was another terrifying sight. If he could find the ability to stand, he would have to either back away in distrust of whatever this could do until it died down or to come closer and try to… help?

“Al-”   
  


Hands slammed on his desk and the rest was unclear. Vincent was met with a faceful of that manic and inhuman look before it all briefly went black, ears ringing. Or rather… his ears were filled with the tone played over colorbars tests of old televisions.

Before he had time to process  _ whatever _ that was, he was within the confines of the office once again with Albert slowly blinking with a smirk from his seat as if he didn't just leak from every orifice in his face at once before lunging at him. He glanced around subtly; there was still no window and no door.

"Apologies, Vincent. It's gotten rather difficult to hold back sometimes." Albert admitted that with a rather disappointed look in his eyes. "I guess it isn't very hard to say we might not be much different from each other again."

"Wait-" Vincent leaned forward in his chair, eyes staring into Krueger's once again pink ones. "You-?"

"Not exactly like you, I'm afraid. It's been a genetic curse of sorts," Albert explained adjusting his shirt until Vincent could see where the blackened purple of his arms stopped and looked as if it was planning to spread further. "I come from a family of… inhuman beings. Once we come into our power, we have… this… happen to us. Including the fangs that I'm sure you've noticed. The eyes as well.

"You shared what you are, so I felt I should do the same - I'm sure you could have already seen there has been change. I'm sorry if this has been too much-"

"No… I'm sorry. I think. It looks… I don't know-"

Both of the men stopped talking as a faint noise got louder… and louder… and  _ louder _ , and more irritating. A man outside had started to loudly (and drunkenly) sing from somewhere outside of the office.

"One moment - I should handle this," Albert folded his hands in a way that  _ should _ be seen as polite, but came off as threatening instead. "I'll leave you with a video to enjoy in the meantime."

"Albert?"

"Hm?"

"Be nice to the poor man, will you?"

Albert laughed and then suddenly… there were skeletons. The video Albert left for him to focus on was a simple clip of skeletons… dancing. Huh. He expected something keeping more in theme with the company - perhaps even a commercial - but this was certainly a choice.

After the moment's notice, Albert returned to his seat and Vincent went from focusing on stiff skeletons grooving to some barebones beat to staring at his looming presence.

"What the hell was that?"

"A video of dancing skeletons! I thought you would enjoy a little fun."

"… I suppose."

The lack of enthusiasm over the video led Albert to move on. He seemed a little excited about whatever was going to come next and Vincent couldn't tell if the thought made him roll his eyes or recoil.

"I have one more activity for you, Vincent!"

There was brief shuffling within desk drawers before a thin stack of papers were placed onto the desk. The very top of the pile had an indecipherable blob on the page. Ah… another actually normal thing to do in a therapy session. Interesting and unexpected!

"The Rorschach test-"

"I know exactly what the Rorschach test is, Albert."

"Excellent! Should we begin? Look at this shape and tell me what you see."

There wasn’t time to answer before Albert slid one of the papers to where he could grab it. Ah. Printed yes pristine. Vincent didn’t know why he ever expected anything different. There was a small imperfection, though - a slight imprint through the back of the page… hm. He flipped the paper to check the back only to find nothing, not even legible indents in the page.

“Why did you do that, Vincent? Please answer the question.”

“… I see a butterfly.” Vincent spoke with little enthusiasm, but making a mental note to check each page for more indented markings.

Each one had a slightly stronger set of imprints on the back. From the “bunny” to the “face” down to the “tree” there were more and more telling invisible marks. They slowly came to a shape more and more, each blank back irritated Albert and each blank back had more and more of an imprint. They seemed to make what could be a drawing? The lines were too sporadic for text or any sort the entire way over the page. Even as the art of the ink splotches became more and more disturbing, they were simply checked for any other clues of what the mysterious texture was.

And then he found it.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tested Albert’s patience by flipping yet another piece of paper, but the curiosity on this trail had gotten to him. Vincent took the final piece slid to him and curiously flipped it over. His peripherals told him that Albert twitched, something as if he dreaded this very moment. The reveal of his own artwork on the back of the paper in Vincent’s hands.

Vincent wouldn’t consider himself the most knowledgeable about art nor would he count himself as the perfect subject of it. He had many flaws that he refused to expect such adoration of, but the art that Albert made had warmed him… just a little bit. It was a portrait of Vincent - still in college, quite obviously - shaded and sketched to perfection. Did he regularly make things like this, or was that a one time thing with the subject he deemed enjoyable?

Did Albert deem him enjoyable?

“… Vincent.” Albert’s voice was cold in an attempt to push down the panic of the art being revealed to the subject himself. “ _ Why did you flip the paper _ ?”

Peeking over the edge of the artwork, Vincent could see the pink eyes before him were once again more red and his skin pale.  _ Ah _ . There was restraint in his buggy eyes and a faint tremble in his dark hands. A droplet of an odd color dripped from his eye. The room’s atmosphere shifted. The music distorted until it faded out completely. The entire setting became darker slowly as if he had tunnel vision focused on the man before him. Everything was at a tense draw, a calmly wound string before it snapped. Waiting for something to happen…?

“It’s lovely art, Albert. I had no idea you could draw so well.” It was a tactic to try and calm Albert down, but there was truth. He did really enjoy how well it was drawn and was flattered by the fact it was a sign… he was thought about outside of the mind of Victor.

Albert did not care how many compliments he received about the piece, however. The moment it was returned to the desk with hesitance, he leapt up and snatched it to stick it with the others and the lights blinked out with the most horrific noise. Panic fried Vincent’s thought process as his vision became black and he shot up from his seat finally.  _ Not again, _ was all that drifted through his thoughts,  _ not again not again not again not agai- _

…

The lights came back. He was seated again, the music had returned, Albert was smiling menacingly (as usual) from his desk, and all was normal. It seemed that Vincent himself even forgot why he began to panic in the first place… which was a new effect on him.

“I’m so sorry, Vincent. It seems that I scared you. That wasn’t my intention - you see… I’m simply protective of my things.”

“So you… something you’re protective over is a professional item on which you’ve drawn my face on the back of? Please… I would love an elaboration.”

The embarrassment in those bright pink eyes brought a smile to Vincent's face. It was, of course, a self indulgent smile of the kind that enjoyed another’s painful misfortune in the moment. Schadenfreude, was it? Yes that. His face came across a relaxed smirk, confident in how he’d cornered Albert now in this. The way he looked like a loss for words? The way his brow twitched in the most minute way in some sort of nervousness? Oh every little detail made up for the entire disaster of a “therapy” session.

“I think I should take my leave now, but I really enjoyed the art and had an almost fun time playing your little games. Please… don’t be afraid to call me to reach out some time.” Vincent pushed himself out of the seat he was trapped in with that and stepped closer to the desk. ”Goodbye, Albert.”

He leaned across the structure in order to playfully plant a kiss onto Albert’s cheek. Something to play a little nod at what he assumed were feelings based on how well detailed that little drawing was. Instead of a goodbye that he expected, he received the man before him, rising out of his own seat to stare into his eyes once again with a slight tick in the direction of desperation. Was Albert… desperate for him? For company? For  _ his _ company?

The thought of spending even more time with the man immediately felt like something he should complain about… however that was since the initial thought had been being dragged back into this horrific room again and forced to go through whatever terrible games were planned that day. Instead, he pictured spending time with him outside of any level of work. Just him and his college rival reconnecting something special… becoming closer than before…

Ah…

Vincent smiled in a much warmer way than he had before and leaned in. On Albert’s lips, he placed the softest kiss he could control in the moment. It was full of feelings, but chaste, simple, and short.

“Goodnight, Albert.”

Albert stood, dazed and unreadable, as Vincent began to walk towards the newly placed door.

“… Goodnight, Vincent.”

* * *

Vincent startled awake, gasping for air as he came to. This was his room… within his manor with his things. The office… he was no longer there, but it felt so real. Was it all a dream? Is that why it had been called dream therapy? Rubbing his eyes, Vincent reached for his phone to distract from the thoughts of everything he had done being fictional or lost to time once the memory faded.

  
  


**_1 New Message_ **

_ Hello, Vincent! I hope it’s alright that I did a little snooping to find your phone. Please text me sometime. I think we could do wonderful things. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on Twitter at @dayblakespark for anything else you'd like to say.


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